Wanna Dance?
by JenRiley16
Summary: Hannah meets a man in a bar named Dean. He smelled like booze, and cheap cologne, but Hannah didn't care one bit. Neither of them know each other, but they end up slow dancing to a familiar Kansas song.


The sky was dark, and diamonds glittered against the black expanse. Hannah shivered, her breath coming out in white puffs. The bar would be warmer, though, she promised herself. It always was, warm, and filled with people. The people that went to the bar Hannah frequented was always filled with interesting folks. They wore leather, and smelled like gunpowder and cheap detergent. She would watch them come in with cuts and bruises, barely concealing their pain or showing it off like a champ.

As Hannah took a seat at the bar, her eyes slid over to the man sitting beside her, holding a beer to his temple. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, instinct taking over. His lip was busted, and a purple bruise was forming along his jaw. Without saying a word, he nodded, and flagged down the bartender for a beer he could drink. "You one of these people?" He looked over at her, and then scanned the rest of the bar.

There was a woman nursing her throbbing head, a man swearing as he spilled beer on the open cut on his hand. Many others like them were scattered around the bar, some conversing easily with each other, some guarding themselves like they held a thousand secrets. "These people?" the man repeated, and raised his brows. Hannah nodded, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Yeah, every week when I come in, they're all here, bruised and battered. You look just like 'em. So what is it you all do?" She didn't know this man from Adam, so it wasn't like she was really expecting a response.

"We hunt." His voice was rough and husky, and Hannah's breath caught in her throat. For whatever reason he had decided to tell her, Hannah felt like she was in the know now. "Everything. Vampires, demons, ghosts. The whole lot." Hannah laughed, and it felt good and nice and wonderful. She hadn't laughed in a long time, and this stranger, this person she had just met, at a bar nonetheless, had made her do it.

She didn't have to believe his words to know he was telling the truth. The look on his face, the glint in his eyes, all those factors told her what he said was real. And she took it astonishingly well. "So, demons, huh?" she said conversationally. He nodded, seeming surprised that she didn't call him nuts and run out screaming. "Oh, so you're that kid of hunter." Hannah nodded, considering, and smiled at the man. "That's pretty cool, if you ask me." He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and let loose a grin. "I'm Hannah," she introduced, and stuck out her hand. His hand was rough, and calloused, and scratched against her unmarked one.

"Dean." Hannah nodded again and her grin hung loose on her lips. The jukebox started crackling out a Kansas song, and Dean smirked, holding out his hand once more. "Wanna dance?" he asked, and Hannah flushed. When she consented, Dean took her by the wrist and pulled her to the middle of the room. She ignored the blatant stares from around the bar; it was clear that people didn't typically dance here.

_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more_

"This is one of my favorite songs," Hannah conceded, and Dean smiled, saying that it was one of his, too. "My mom used to sing it to me when I was younger. Except she would substitute 'daughter' for 'son'." Dean laughed, and Hannah couldn't help the giggle that escaped her mouth. His laugh was beautiful, and rich, and deep, and as soon as it ended, Hannah wanted it to start again. "You don't usually come around here, do you? I've been here more than a few times, and I've never seen you before."

He shook his head. "Nah. My brother and I never usually cross through Alabama. And if we do, we don't stop." Hannah simpered and suddenly became hyper-aware of Dean's warm hand on her waist. Tightening her arms around his neck, Hannah unintentionally pulled him closer. "Would you say no to kissing a total stranger?"  
Letting out a small smile, Hannah bit her lip.

"I wouldn't not say no." His eyes grinned then, and he leaned down to capture her mouth with his. His lips were warm, and soft, albeit slightly chapped. He smelled like booze, and cheap cologne, but Hannah would take it any day. It was dark out, and soon the sun would be rising, and Hannah didn't know if she would ever see Dean again, but she would admit that she sure would like to if it meant she could smell that dusty leather once more.


End file.
